100 One-Shot Challenge
by WildheartTheWarrior
Summary: I've decided to take Prin Pardus's 100 One-shot Challenge! Yes, I'm aware that it's two years late.


**A/N: I've finally taken Prin Pardus's 100 One-shot Challenge! Yes, I'm aware that this is about two years late :P**

**Anyway, this is for the first prompt, Injured. But be warned, this is a bit...dark.  
**

* * *

**Injured**

He lay there, half-buried under the soft green moss. The very tip of his nose poked through, and his dull silver tail prickled behind him. The tiny kit was absolutely still, save for the twitching of his tail, as he stared at the entrance to the nursery.

Waiting.

At last, the brambles rustled. A silver-pelted she-cat padded through the entrance, careful not to get her soft fur caught on the thorns.

This was what he had been waiting for. Without making a single sound, he waited until the queen stood just above him. Then he launched himself forward, wrapping his small white paws around her foreleg and nipping at her fur.

The she-cat jumped, glancing down in surprise at the fluffy bundle that was hanging from her leg. Then her face lit up. "Cricketkit," she purred. "What are you doing?"

Cricketkit stopped biting his mother and lifted his head, pale eyes wide and innocent. "I was practicing being sneaky," he mewed, tail waving above his head. "Wasn't I good, Mama?"

The she-cat smiled. Gently, she leaned down and disentangled her son from her leg. "Yes," she said. "You were very good." Her light blue eyes—almost identical to her kit's—were twinkling with amusement. "You'll be a fine hunter one day," she told him.

"And a fighter," Cricketkit added. "I'll be able to sneak up on anyone!" He batted one paw in the air. "No warrior'll mess with ShadowClan then!"

His mother laughed—a soft, gentle sound like the chirping of a songbird. "Not with my brave little warrior around," she purred, licking his head. Cricketkit stretched up to meet her, burying his muzzle into her fur—soft, sweet, and smelling of milk and warmth. She was a comforting presence to him.

There was a sudden pressure in his scruff. Cricketkit let out a mew of surprise as he was lifted into the air, only to be set back down in his nest. His mother curled herself around him, tucking her tail across his back. "Now go to sleep, Cricketkit."

The little tom blinked up at his mother before laying his head down. His eyes drooped slowly closed as he tucked his paws beneath him.

"I love you, Mama," he mumbled, pressing himself closer to her warmth.

The last thing he remembered as he fell asleep was a soft, gentle throbbing sound by his ear as his mother's heartbeat eased.

"I love you too, Cricketkit."

**~000~**

Sunlight shone softly down on the meadow. Enormous, puffy clouds drifted lazily through the sky, constantly remolding themselves into new shapes. Down below on the ground, the tall grass waved alluringly, moving hypnotically in the wind with a collective hiss amd beckoning to any cat that dared to explore their depths. The air was filled with the sweet scents of flowers and the rustlings of prey as they scuttled about.

Cricketkit stared, wide-eyed, at it all as he struggled to take it all in. Everything was so real—yet, at the same time, so unreal.

Pawstep by pawstep, he moved closer to the swaying field of grass and the wonders it held. His ears pricked as a small bird flew overhead, merrily chirping its song for the world to hear. He glanced back towards the labyrinth of the field. Then, grinning, he broke into a run and, with a flying leap, hurled himself in.

The grass towered high above his head—he could just barely see the smallest patch of blue. But that didn't stop Cricketkit as he plowed on through, laughing his head off as he raced along with reckless abandon. The stalks bent around his paws, rustling loudly with every step he took.

Without warning, the silver tom pitched forward, tumbling down a small slope. It didn't hurt; the soft grass cushioned his fall. Cricketkit stood up, shaking out his pelt.

Before him, a clearing in the forest of grass stretched for several fox-lengths. The ground was carpeted in flowers of all shapes, colors, and sizes; the air was filled with their sweet smell. Butterflies and bumblebees flitted from plant to plant, settling down briefly to feed on their nectar before taking flight again.

Cricketkit's pale eyes grew wide with wonder at the scene before him. Then, with a wild squeal, he charged forward and flung himself into the flowers, rolling back and forth and burying himself in their scent.

At last he stopped his wild romp, flopping on his back in a patch of small white flowers. He closed his eyes, smiling to himself as he basked in the warm glow of the whole scene.

_This is the best dream I've ever had!_

As he stared up at the sky, a brightly-colored butterfly fluttered over his head. A mischievous grin settled over his face. Quietly getting to his paws, he crept slowly after the insect in its lazy flight. He flattened himself to the ground as it lighted on a large yellow flower. Then, wiggling his rump, he sprang at it with claws unsheathed.

And then what had seemed like a harmless butterfly whirled on him with a snarl. Cricketkit stumbled backwards with a squeal of alarm as it swelled up to an enormous size, glaring down at him with malevolent yellow eyes. The silver tom let out a mewl of fright, pressing himself into the dirt as his dream became a nightmare.

The meadow dissolved around him as huge, reddish blurs swirled around him, chasing fleeing figures with horrible howls and slashing at their paws. The screams of terrified cats echoed through the air as they ran before the monsters.

As Cricketkit watched, one of the creatures seized a cat in its jaws and threw it high, seeming to take delight in its wails. Then, it turned its terrible gaze to Cricketkit.

He stood frozen in terror as it bore down on him, snarling and snapping. He squeezed his eyes shut...

**~000~**

...and jerked back into awareness with a gasp. He sat up straight in the nest, fur beginning to lie flat with relief at the nightmare's end.

Yet...if it had only been a nightmare, then why could he still hear the yowls?

A horrible chill ran down his spine as he realized that the nest was cold. Where was his mother? Leaping to his paws, he darted forward and pushed his head through the brambles.

What he saw made his blood run cold. Huge, red-furred creatures were scattered about the clearing. Their yellow eyes glittered with malice as they ducked and lunged, growling at the ShadowClan warriors who reared up to battle them.

It was his nightmare come alive.

But his gaze snapped instantly back to the battle. Where was his mother?

A silver pelt suddenly caught his eye. There she was, her blue eyes ablaze with defiant hatred as she spit in a red monster's face. Her delicate white paws shot out, raking its muzzle as she darted around it, nipping at its ankles.

His face lit up with joy. "Mother!" he called.

The silvery she-cat stopped dead, eyes wide. "Cricketkit?" she meowed in shock.

And then, the red creature lunged down and snapped his mother up. The queen let out a terrified wail, but it simply shook her harder, its yellow eyes glowing with savage glee. And Cricketkit could only watch as his mother's cries abruptly stopped. The monster tossed her to the ground, and she rolled across the nursery entrance. Her beautiful, ice-blue eyes were glazed and unseeing. Her silver pelt was now coated in blood. She simply lay there.

Umoving. Unseeing. Unliving.

"Mother!" Cricketkit's heartbroken cry echoed through the clearing. His paws were in motion before he knew what he was doing. The little tom-kit raced through the heat of battle, tripping through snarling figures, until he had reached her side. His tiny legs gave out, and he buried his muzzle into her still-warm fur.

"Mother," he whimpered. "Mother, Mother, Mother…"

A shrill scream from behind him made him lift his head. The other three kits in the nursery were pressed up against the opposite wall, eyes wide with pure terror.

And then he saw why.

The biggest of the red monsters had just stepped into the nursery over his mother's body.

Cricketkit's pelt stood on end. He was frozen to the spot, even as the monster came ever closer.

"Help us!" It was Lark-kit who screamed, blue eyes bulging as she scrambled over her brother in an effort to keep away from the snarling creature. "Please! Someone help us!"

He didn't know why his paws propelled him forward. He didn't know why he hurled himself forward, sinking his tiny fangs into the monster's leg. But he did it anyways.

A horrible roar, louder than the loudest thunderclap, came from above his head. A shadow loomed over him, and for a brief moment a pair of vicious yellow eyes shone inches from his own.

And in the next instant all he knew was pain. A horrible, twisted scream of pure anguish tore itself from his throat as fire exploded across half of his face. A tide of red rushed down his face, obscuring his sight and soaking through his soft fur. He was vaguely aware of air rushing past him. And then he was on the ground again, what little air he had crushed from his tiny lungs.

He couldn't see. His whole head was on fire. But somehow, he could sense other shapes jumping past him. He could vaguely hear the shouts of angry cats.

And he could just make out the outline of his mother's still form.

With what little strength he had, Cricketkit crawled to her side. "Mama…" he whispered, taking one last comfort from his dear mother.

Then everything swirled away, leaving nothing but darkness.

**~000~**

"Do you think he'll ever wake up?"

"I don't know."

"What's the matter with him?"

"Everyone, hush! I think he's coming to!"

Cricketkit twitched a paw. There was a dull, throbbing pain moving slowly through his entire body. Yet somehow, it seemed anchored to his face…

A feeble groan of pain escaped his throat. Gingerly, his eyes opened of their own accord.

Or, at least, one opened. The other was held shut by something that felt sticky on his fur.

Before him stood a group of vaguely familiar cats who were all looking at him with different expressions.

"Cricketkit?"

The dull silver kit lifted his head to stare up into the blue eyes above him. "Cricketkit, sweetie, can you hear me?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but the fire returned, licking savagely across his cheek and jaw. His head flopped back to the ground, a quiet mewl escaping his jaws.

"Here," meowed the same voice. A brown paw reached forward, bearing a small black object. "This will take away the pain."

Shakily, Cricketkit leaned forward to lap up the seed. Almost instantly, the fire dulled slightly. Sluggishly, the tom-kit lifted his head. "Wher'mI?" he slurred.

"You're in the medicine den," the she-cat replied softly. "You were hurt in the battle against the foxes and you lost a lot of blood."

_Foxes?_ Cricketkit narrowed his eyes confusedly. "Is that why my face hurts?" he asked innocently.

The medicine cat looked as if she had just been struck. "Cricketkit," she meowed, her voice barely audible. "There's…there's something you need to see."

_Something's wrong,_ warned the part of his mind that wasn't dulled. _Something is very, very wrong._

Anxiety pricking at his chest, Cricketkit staggered slowly to his paws. The medicine cat gently helped him steady himself, helping him limp over to the pool near the back of the den. He glanced down into it—yet at once he could tell there was something off. The part of his face that hurt was covered in some kind of white stuff. _Cobwebs,_ he realized. _But why are there so many?_

Gently, the medicine cat began to unravel the gossamer strands with her claws. And as the last of the wrappings fell away, Cricketkit's mind went numb.

_That's not me, _he thought as he stared down at the kit in the pool. It had his same silver fur and his same pale eyes…but Cricketkit didn't have those ugly pink scars. Or the missing fur, or the horribly stretched skin.

His limbs began to shake. _That's not me, that's not me, that's not me…_

"Cricketkit?" The medicine cat looked worried now. "Cricketkit, are you all right?"

The silver-and-white tom-kit could not tear his gaze from the mangled face in the water.

Not me.

Not me.

Not me.

And then, everything he was trying to keep in overflowed in a wave of misery. Cricketkit collapsed to the den floor, tears already flowing down his ruined face. He sobbed, barely noticing the touch of the medicine cat as she attempted to comfort him, barely recognized the little brown she-kit who stood, horrified, in the den's entrance.

"I'm sorry," whispered the medicine cat. "I'm so, so sorry."

He simply sank deeper into the depths of his despair, drowning in his anguish until the world around him became dark once more.


End file.
